Of this May—

Or perchance, if such grace

May be,

Some night when I dream of his face.

Dream of me.

Or if this be too high

A hope

For me to prefigure in my

Horoscope,

He may dream of the place

Where we

Basked once in the light of his face,

Who now see

Nought brighter, not one

Thing bright,

Than the stars and the moon and the sun,

Day nor night.

351 XX

351

Day by darkling day,

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